Honesty
by Inspiration-Is-Hard-To-Come-By
Summary: It's been a long day, and it's about to get longer, and Steve and Wanda are about to realize just how similar they really are.


Steve is finally climbing into bed, it's been a long day... first he was up all night trying not to worry about how awful Peggy looked yesterday, then there was the fighting, ugh, so much fighting. And now he has to baby this gushing cut on his neck. The bandage makes a frustrating crinkling noise every time he moves.

 _One more inch,_ he thinks, _one more inch and I'd be gone. One more inch and none of this would hurt so much._ He stops himself quickly, afraid of where that kind of thinking will lead him. He's been down that road too many times. And right now he's far too tired to wrestle with the idea of not being here anymore.

He's reaching to pull up the blanket when he hears soft footsteps, and then a knock, at which Steve nearly jumps out of his skin, he was sure he was the only one still awake at this ungodly hour. "Come in," ugh, even his voice sounds tired.

The door opens very slowly, and through the crack he can see Wanda, peering shyly into the room. Her eyes are weary, and her face is clean, but openly shows some small wounds from both of the fights today.

"What is it, Wanda?" he asks.

 _That is an excellent question._ She considers before saying, "I just wanted to thank you, captain."

"For what?"

"I don't know, just ah... for watching my back I suppose."

"Oh, well um, you're welcome, I guess, I mean we are a team but uh..." It's awkward, there's nothing left to say, but Wanda is still standing there, leaning on his dresser, staring at the floor. "Did you need anything else?" he probes nervously.

"Um..." _Oh no... come on Wanda think, why did you come here of all places?_ "Can I just... uh, can we just talk?"

Steve is caught a little off guard, no one ever comes here just to talk, certainly not at two thirty-six in the morning. Nonetheless, he responds with, "Um... okay. What about?"

She shrugs, "Anything... I just... can't sleep."

"Why not?" He gestures for her to sit down.

"A lot of reasons..." she mumbles as she eases down in front of him on the bed, "it's ah, mostly... Pietro." The way she says his name sounds painful, it seemed to be stuck in her throat like broken glass.

His voice drops to a strangled whisper, "Wanda, I'm so sorry." She nods, she's heard it all before. "Really, I am. And I know that right now that doesn't mean a single thing... and I guess I'm sorry about that too... but if it makes you feel any better, I know exactly what you're going through."

Suddenly, there's some anger in her eyes, "All due respect to you captain, but that is not possible."

"It's not, is it?"

"No, it can't be... At least I truly hope not." She says, her eyes downcast.

"Wanda... do you know what happened?"

She hesitates, "No, captain," then, noticing the look on his face she whispers, "What did they do to you?"

"What they did isn't so painful as what I did to myself... I used to be, small, like, incredibly small... and my physical wasn't good. But because I wanted join the army, I agreed to take part in this, um... experiment."

At this she gives a small laugh, "You know, that does sound awfully familiar." He nods in agreement as she adds, "But you were saying?"

Steve takes a deep breath, not eager to tell the rest of the story, "Well, when I finally got into the army, there was this plane crash..." his breath shutters on the way out, "I went into the ice, everyone, including me, thought I was dead... and then I woke up in New York, seventy years later... all my friends are dead, everyone I knew is either dead or bedridden... except this one girl, I visit her in the nursing home a lot. She and I were pretty close."

"That's terrible captain... what about your parents? Where able to learn anything about them?"

He sighs, "No they were-" his voice catches, "They were gone before I joined up."

She reaches for his hand, which he takes hesitantly. "I'm sorry, captain, I shouldn't have asked."

"You can call me Steve you know."

Her head cocks to the side, "Steve," she repeats, "I like that name." There's a long, silent pause, "Steve, does it ever stop hurting?"

He meets her eyes, and with a gentle squeeze he says, "No… I'm sorry."

She nods, and is opening her mouth to speak when she releases a strangled sob. _Dammit!_ She tries to stop it, ugh, her eyes are burning, and then she feels the hot tears tracing her cheeks.

Carefully, Steve reaches out and slides his arms around her shoulders, and she leans into him, trying to choke down another sob. "Hey, you're okay… you're gonna be fine." he whispers. She tries to catch her breath, but when she looks up to apologize, his eyes are so honest, so open, that she can't stop the next cry. And for the first time in her life, Wanda lets someone besides Pietro comfort her.

He tightens his embrace, and she sobs uncontrollably into his neck. And he holds her. And it feels so wonderful, to let go, to let someone else know, openly, how much pain she's in.

Of course it only takes a few minutes for guilt to kick in. And she begins to hate herself for crying, for carrying on... _Why should he care? I am being selfish..._

After a few more minutes all of the pain of loss and guilt and fear and frustration all well up inside of her, and suddenly she starts to beg, "Please captain, I just want it to be over..."

"Stop it, don't think like that."

"...it would be so easy, so quick…"

"Wanda…"

"Just one motion, one motion and I don't have to feel like this anymore…"

"Wanda. Stop." He pulls away from her abruptly.

"It wouldn't even be hard, captain, just kill me!" She looks like a hurt child, her cheeks are puffy, her face is red and full of shame, and she's hunched over, as if she's afraid she'll be hit. But the look in her eyes is one he recognizes all too well. He's seen it in the mirror too many times, and he knows that deep down she possesses a terrifyingly honest desire to die. "Please..." she starts.

"Come here," he mumbles, and slowly, he slides his blanket up from behind her to around her shoulders, scoots back against the headboard, and wraps his arms around her once more, and she rest her head on his chest and cries until she can't anymore.

She opens her eyes a couple of hours later, the room is still pitch dark, and his hands are still on her back, his eyes are still open, studying the wall. "Steve," she croaks.

He meets her eyes, "You okay?" he asks.

"No, but I do feel a bit better." His hands trace her spine, _God, he's good at this._

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What did you really come here for, originally?"

"I don't know Steve, that really is the truth."

"Well… did you get what you wanted?"

"I think so."

After another long moment he says, "Promise me something?" She looks up, "If you feel like that again, don't hesitate to come talk to me… and if not me, Clint, or Nat, or Bruce… hell, even Tony. Just… don't even give yourself that opportunity."

"Alright, captain." And with that she lays her head back down on him, and they hold each other in silence until sun starts seeping in through the bottom of the curtains, hours later.


End file.
